


lay your body down (next to mine)

by PunsAndRoses



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Angst, Bad Parenting, Cheating, F/F, One-Sided Relationship, Strained Relationships, the one where everyone is a doctor, truly lots of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22872625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunsAndRoses/pseuds/PunsAndRoses
Summary: "I am," Yong mutters softly, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands, worn and tired and a hundred years old somehow, "A terrible human being." || or, a hospital AU
Relationships: Kim Yongsun | Solar/Moon Byulyi | Moonbyul, Kim Yongsun | Solar/Nam Yoondo | Eric Nam
Comments: 11
Kudos: 96





	lay your body down (next to mine)

The constant beep-beep-beep of the IVs gets to you after a while, but by then you've already learnt the reasons to ignore it. 

Yongsun points this out to Wheein over in pediatrics that morning while she waits for the x-rays she had requested last week. They're standing in one of the playrooms downstairs watching the children around them shove puzzle pieces together and Yongsun has only had one cup of coffee. 

"They give me migraines," she complains, crossing her arms over her white lab coat and frowning down at her cheery friend. "And I hear them in my sleep." 

But as usual, Wheein stays stubbornly optimistic. She nods her head solemnly and but still manages a dimpled smile, "I think of it like music," and then starts bobbing her head and her twirling her arms in the air, presumably to the song in her own head. Some of the children sitting near them giggle at the sight and copy, standing up on weak, shaky legs and dancing around to no music. 

It's Hyejin, in her magenta scrubs and tennis sneakers who raises an elegant eyebrow and tilts her head slightly, confused. 

"The beeping sound is good," She explains with a type of kindness and patience that could truly only be found in a nurse, "The thing that should really worry you is when the beeping stops." 

_It's true_ , Yongsun realizes with a soft jolt, and it shuts her up. She isn't about to tell Hyejin that, though. 

In the seconds of silence that follow, Hyejin yawns widely, "Ugh, I need coffee," she whines, and Yongsun lights up. 

"Get me some too, please?" She asks, and Hyejin shrugs briefly. The younger girl slouches off towards the nurse's station, scratching absently at her cheek. 

Yongsun leans against the doorway of the pediatric ward, and for a second she watches as Wheein takes a little girl by the hands and sways them back and forth. She starts singing something sad and sweet with a "yeah-yeah-yeah" chorus and the girl laughs merrily, singing along. 

Yongsun turns away from them with a discontented sigh. She runs her left hand through her hair, but it gets snagged halfway down, and she growls, untangling it. 

She doesn't agree with Wheein's methods—the over-friendliness, visiting with patients even if they don't have an appointment, constantly messing around in the playroom instead of settling down in her office to finish her paperwork. This was especially confusing to Yongsun because anytime Wheein lost a patient she turned silent and depressed for at least three weeks straight, always making the same "She/He was so _young_!" squeaks and endlessly sighing as she roamed the halls of the pediatric ward.

And Hyejin of course, would have to be the one to talk her through it, making sure she got to work on time and filled her paperwork properly so she wouldn't, you know, _get fired_. 

It was a pretty predictable cycle, though; and Yongsun did not mind it nearly as much as she let on. Wheein was easy enough to get through. She was usually back to herself in a matter of weeks and Yongsun always made sure to sit her down and have a calm discussion about the cycle of life and how everyone dies, and this was a hospital, where people actually _came to die_ , and if that bothered her too much she needed to seriously reevaluate her career options. And Wheein would nod solemnly; swear up and down that this was the last time she would react so unprofessionally— _pinky swear, Unnie_. 

Then a five-year-old comes in for a routine checkup and leaves with the knowledge that he has chronic lymphocytic leukemia, and Wheein stops eating. 

That's how it went, and Yongsun couldn't help but think that while anyone who studies hard enough and goes to school for long enough could become a doctor, not everyone should. 

She is broken out of her musings when she catches sight of a pair of magenta scrubs coming down the hall with—thank god—two steaming cups of coffee, one slightly larger than the other. In fact, Yongsun's eyes are so fixated on that lovely beverage clutched in Hyejin's hand; she doesn't even notice the other doctor walking beside her. 

"Dr. Kim," the other doctor says with a teasing sort of patience when they reach her, voice lilting in amusement and Yongsun tears her eyes away from that beautiful cup of java to raise an eyebrow at Dr. Moon. She has a clipboard tucked under her arm and half a grin on her face. Her hair is tied back in its usual low ponytail and, as usual, is perfect in its sleekness. Passing nurses turn to stare at her blatantly, wistful sighs echoing down the poorly lit corridor as they pass. 

"Yeah?" Yongsun asks, hardly caring about the other woman’s response, taking the coffee from Hyejin's outstretched hand and holding it under her nose for a second, inhaling. 

"Addictions are upstairs in Ward 12. Would you like me to show you the way?" 

Hyejin exhales loudly through her nose, used to this sort of behavior from them and says "I have to prep a patient for surgery. See you guys at lunch?" And hurries away towards the elevators. 

Yongsun scoffs, takes a sip of her coffee and tries to keep her face from revealing the traitorous smile threatening to crack through her rigid self control. 

"Smartasses are downstairs in radiology. Would you like me to show _you_ the way?" She mocks, even though she knows it isn't true. Radiology took a rare kind of skill, working with so many machines and filtrations, always knowing that there was something wrong with someone when they came in, and not having the power or authority to do it except give it a name, a grade. Very few people could actually put up with that kind of work, surrounded by the stilted silence only medical machinery could bring, and Yongsun had an odd sort of respect for the people who could. And besides, Eric was a radiologist and he was one of the best this hospital had. 

Dr. Moon isn't bothered by her insult, anyways. She shrugs, an easy up-down, full-bodied gesture that is somehow equal parts elegant and blasé. She hands Yongsun the clipboard tucked under her arm. 

"I looked at the films you sent in last week. The growth in the kidney is pretty sizable." 

Yongsun exhales a ragged breath and snatches the chart from between her fingers, scanning over the intricate letters. There's a familiar smiley face underneath the steady scrawl of Dr. Moon's notes and Yongsun rolls her eyes when she sees it, snapping the clipboard shut again.

"God, I need to run a PET scan. This poor woman is as good as dead. Have you looked at that displaced patella I sent you Thursday?" 

Dr. Moon crosses her arms over her chest and gives her a stern look. She is, Yongsun knows, upset with her wording. 

"You shouldn't say things like that," Dr. Moon admonishes, stepping a little closer. She flips the clipboard open again to peer at her chart and on instinct Yongsun takes a step back. This close she can smell the other woman clearly, and even the harsh layer of acetone, clorox, and ethyl alcohol that douses the entire hospital and crawls under everyone's skin cannot mask the floral, totally female scent that is Moon Byulyi MD. 

"It's just a growth," she continues, oblivious to Yongsun’s discomfort. She takes another step closer and looks more thoroughly at the clipboard, wraps one hand around the curve of Yongsun’s elbow to keep her in place when she tries to step back again. "It could still be nothing." 

Yongsun thinks, more likely than nothing, that this is most probably _something_ , something that ends this young lady's life in a few short years, but she doesn't voice these thoughts.

She can barely breathe, to be honest, with Moon Byulyi standing over her like this. 

"I'll get you the patella at lunch. Right now I have to send some blood work over to Sandeul." 

Dr. Moon looks at her then and smiles a lopsided smile, finally releasing her but still standing too close to be strictly professional. 

"I mean it about the coffee though," Dr. Moon’s voice is gravely, lilting, quietly affectionate. "It makes you short." 

She reaches down then and fluffs at the hair on top of her head. Yongsun scowls and violently shoves the other woman’s arm away. Her eyes dart briefly around the mostly empty halls, making sure no one saw that before she turns to glare at her. 

"I told you to stop that," she hisses, which she supposes would be a lot more threatening if they weren't standing so close together. She backs away a few steps and fists her hips. "I know where all your nerves-ending are, and I can make sure you experience a slow and painful death." 

Dr. Moon just laughs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before placing both hands easily in the pockets of her lab coat. "After hearing that for three and a half years the scariness kind of wears off." 

Yongsun continues to glare, but she thinks, well the other woman does have a point. She'll have to take some time out of her day and come up with more creative ways to threaten people with her medical knowledge. 

More importantly though, she has to get the hell out of here before Dr. Moon notices how flustered she's getting. 

"I have to go. Try not to kill anyone today, doctor." 

"Byul!" Dr. Moon calls after her, the same way she'd been calling it after her since Yongsun transferred here years ago. She waves a hand behind her, signaling she heard the other woman and still doesn't care. 

. 

Yongsun decides to become a doctor when she was thirteen, after a classmate slips and falls down three flights of stairs right before third period. There is a crowd of people surrounding him, wincing and muttering while the poor boy moans helplessly as the paramedics lift him onto a gurney and slip him away. 

Everyone is squeamish at the sight of his mangled bones but her. 

Yongsun thinks that means she could have a very lucrative career in becoming a ruthless serial killer, or she'd be a good candidate to join the mafia, maybe. _Or,_ her best friend at the time says with a shudder, something more sensible, like a doctor or something. 

Now a doctor, Yongsun thinks, would be a nice thing to be. 

No one knows this reasoning but her, though, so when she announces it at dinner one evening, everyone thinks she's such a smart young lady. While all the other girls her age are spinning in pretty circles and screeching to be famous idols, Yongsun’s father buys her the complete New England Journal of Medicine for her fourteenth birthday. It served the dual purpose of helping her improve her english, a good skill to have if she wanted to study medicine in America, he mentioned. 

"You'd be a great OB/GYN," he advises with a proud grin after she tears the package open that day. Her party hat is askew and all her friends had gone home already. 

It weighs maybe ten pounds and looks frightening with all its obscure letterings, but Yongsun doesn't think she's ever seen anything more beautiful in her life. Her father is just giddy at the realization that his daughter was serious about this. It was the type of career move every parent prayed their child be wise enough to make, an honorable profession that earned big bucks and earned respect to boot. 

But that's where Yongsun's father was mistaken. She has absolutely no desire to become an OB/GYN and deliver babies or worry about the female reproductive system or any of those things.

She cracks the book open to the first passage, reveling in how thin and biblical the pages are, brand new and yet older than time itself, somehow. She traces a slim finger over the long, complicated words she doesn't know how to pronounce yet. 

She sees one word she likes. 

Oncology. It sounds, she thinks, like the name of a really cool band, the sort of word a person wouldn't mind having attached to them for the rest of their lives: I’m Kim Yongsun and I'm an oncologist. 

The definition, when she looks it up online, she likes even better: 

_(n.) The study and treatment of tumors_

And just like that, Kim Yongsun has her whole life put together. 

. 

Yongsun's late for lunch that day. It's not her fault; the blood tests she received last night came back with alarmingly high AFP levels and she had to schedule a CT scan which of course meant she had to ask one of the nurses at reception to do it. And since her life is so miserable, it only makes sense that the nurse in question would be the gossip-mongrel and drama queen extraordinaire newbie that no one wanted to work with. It truly baffles Yongsun how a twelve-second task for most, took that newbie nearly an entire day. 

Not to mention later she has to tell a pretty fit forty-three-year old man that he needs an MRI for the questionable growth on his neck, which is what doctors sometimes tell patients when they don't know what the hell is wrong with them to buy some time to figure it out. And usually it works, but every once in a while some hysterical, wife will figure out your game and follow you around all day, warbling on and on about _"But what's wrong with my husband? You're a doctor, you're supposed to know.”_

At around one-thirty, when Yongsun is only a few seconds away from giving that newbie nurse a good scolding, Eric sends a med tech intern to find her and tell her that she's supposed to be at lunch and everyone is waiting. Yongsun growls in frustration and sends the poor girl back to them with a few stern words and a hasty— _I'm busy_ —note scribbled onto the intern's shaking palm.

By the time she rushes over to the cafeteria, the lapels of her lab coat brushing uncomfortably against the fabric of the black dress she's wearing underneath, the only person left at their usual table is Dr. Moon. 

Her pulse races against her will.

"Hey," the other woman says when Yongsun resigns herself to go over there and pick through her salad anyways. Dr. Moon was pouring over a medical text before she sat down, but she closes it up and puts it to the side when Yongsun sits down. Dr. Moon pushes her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose from where they had started to slip downwards. 

"What kept you?" Dr. Moon asks after she doesn't reply to her greeting. Yongsun’s mouth is stuffed with romaine lettuce and dried herbs and she has to swallow thickly before answering.

"That new nurse," Yongsun says, taking a dainty sip of her bottled water, "And patients and the universe obviously conspiring against me." 

Dr. Moon chuckles lightly. The action makes her look a thousand years younger and Yongsun has to swallow hard again, even though she hadn't taken another bite. 

After a terse second, she asks, 

"Why are you still here? Don’t you have a patient appointment or something?" 

Dr. Moon keeps smiling, lips tilted up at the corners and Yongsun spends more time than she feels is strictly necessarily staring at them. 

"Waiting for you," the other woman says with that special shrug of hers, and Yongsun is enraptured by the gesture. She wants to curl her fingers around Dr. Moon’s shoulders and ask her to shrug like that fifty times over. 

"I told you to stop saying things like that," Yongsun advises sharply, banishing those thoughts from her head. She rolls her eyes in annoyance and picks the tomatoes out of her salad. But her heart is picking up, thrumming like mad beneath her skin and she has to keep her head ducked so that Dr. Moon can't see the color rising to her cheeks. 

It doesn’t work. Dr. Moon’s smiles widens, because it's been three-and-a-half years, and she knows when he's said something that pleases Yongsun by now. 

"Anyways," she speaks after a moment, and Yongsun is glad for the subject change, "Eric stuck me with these scans he couldn't figure out himself, and there's something weird with the lymph nodes. They're enlarged and it looks like they're advancing, but I don't know for sure. And I figured since this is your area of expertise and everything,—” 

Yongsun glances at the scans in front of Dr. Moon, leaning over her salad to get a better look. 

"Yeah, that's weird," she agrees, squinting slightly and trying to remember what her beautiful Journal of Medicine had said on the matter. 

"You might want to run that by Dr. Lee, a surgical consul would help. Although I wouldn't recommend actually letting him perform the surgery. He botched his last two operations, did you hear? The lunatic somehow left his wristwatch in some guy's rectum, and now the hospital's getting sued—" 

Yongsun stops talking abruptly though, because when she looks up at Dr. Moon, there's a soft smile on her face and her half-lidded eyes are trained very clearly on her cleavage.

"Pervert," she accuses, leaning back in her seat but not pulling the neckline of her dress up. Dr. Moon’s smirk widens and she looks at her intensely for a second, licking her lips.

"I'm going to be in the on-call room," Dr. Moon says in a soft voice. "My shift ends at two AM today." She stands then, gathers her books and papers and fixes Yongsun with a final smile before exiting. 

Briefly, Yongsun's eyes flit around the mostly empty cafeteria. The only people still eating are the few stragglers that, like her, are forced to have a late lunch. She takes another sip of her water, a large one to help swallow the lump in her throat, all of a sudden not very hungry at all. 

She clenches and unclenches her left hand, nervous, and then shoves it deep into the pocket of her lab coat. 

She tosses her uneaten salad in the trash on the way out. 

. 

The second Yongsun enters the on-call room, a warm body crashes into her. 

Byul shoves her against the door and reaches around behind her, struggling for a second before there is a satisfying click of the lock sliding into place. 

When she kisses her hard and deep, Yong stifles a groan as Byul clutches her head in her hands, pressing them closer together. They stumble backwards, more like preteens than full-grown adults in their clumsiness and fervor, grasping desperately at one another. Byul tears off her lab coat, letting it puddle around her ankles and hers go a second later. Yong grasps the thin fabric of the other woman’s olive green t-shirt like a lifeline in her hands as Byul guides them backwards until the backs of her knees hit the edge of a bed, and Byul lowers them onto it. 

Yong runs thin fingers through the other woman’s hair, upsetting Byul’s signature sleek ponytail, until she reaches behind that spot on her left ear that Yong's become very intimate with in the past. The spot she knows makes Byul shiver and delights when she responds by pressing her torso so firmly against hers it's almost crushing. 

"Say my name," Byul whispers into her ear, scraping teeth there and then soothing with her tongue. She settles himself in between Yong’s legs and stops moving, leveling smoldering, hooded eyes. 

"Byul," she calls breathlessly, wriggling uncomfortably beneath her, and Byul rewards her with an amorous roll of her hips in the cradle of hers. 

"Again," she mutters, sliding strong palms down the slope of her thighs. 

"Byul," she gasps again, it tumbles from her mouth in a heady groan and she hates being told what to do, but Byul is hovering above her, hiking her dress over her hips and god help her, she's always had a frighteningly soft spot for the younger woman. And the way she kisses her, so deep and penetrating and heart-breaking, she's sure she would say just about anything she asked right now. 

Evidentially, Byul likes the sound of her name coming from her; she growls somewhere deep in her ribs and shifts her pelvis wickedly again so that Yong arches her back and cries out. Byul continues kissing down the column of her neck, but her hands momentarily abandon her thighs, and instead she grapples for her own hands, buried deep in her hair.

Byul pulls away slightly then, far enough so that she can level her gaze with Yong’s and she grasps her hands just so, thin white fingers encircling Yong’s slim wrists. Keeping eye contact, she brings the left hand to her lips, presses soft, suctioned kisses against the length of each before entwining their hands together, fingers laced so tightly their knuckles turn pale. 

"Yong," she whispers, pleading almost, looking at her so meaningfully it makes her head spin. 

Byul looks like she may say something; but Yong can guess what it is and she does not want to hear it. She wraps her legs around the other woman’s narrow waist and wrenches one free hand to tug her head down to meet hers again. Byul goes to her, willingly, hopelessly, and they spend the next two hours distinctly not talking. 

. 

Yongsun tells her parents she's going to attend a different medical school in America two months before graduation. The University of Michigan was a far cry from Harvard or John Hopkins, but the Oncology Department was pure gold and Yongsun had wanted to attend their undergraduate program since she was sixteen. 

"Why there?" Her mother asks, worrying a lip in between her pearly teeth. “There are other more reputable universities that would look much better on your resume, I’m sure.” 

"The Oncology Department is amazing," she says instead, standing in front of them after dinner. Her father has the remote in his hand and the local news is on behind her but his eyes are trained on Yongsun. "And they have had some of the top radiation researchers in the world graduate from there. So yeah. It's actually a pretty big deal that I even got in.”

"But I thought we had all agreed on Harvard;" her mother wails, ignoring Yongsun's last sentence, "I'm sure if you email the school now, you can still make it for the fall—"

She's cut off by Yongsun's father, who raises a questioning eyebrow and asks, 

"You still want to do this cancer detective work?" 

"It's not always cancer," Yongsun replies, quietly now. She had always tried everything in her power to make her parents proud, especially her father. All it took was her announcing a career decision he didn’t like or approve of for her to fall very hard from her pedestal of perfect little girl in his eyes. "It's research and development, and like I've told you a million times, a tumor doesn't necessarily mean cancer—" 

But he cuts Yongsun off too, shrugs and gives her a blank smile. 

"Ah well," he allows, tilting his head and focusing back on the news behind her, a signal that the conversation was over. 

"A disappointing career nonetheless though, right?" 

. 

"But," Mrs. Gwan argues, wringing her hands and pressing her lips together in a thin line, "Aren't you supposed to have some treatment method?" 

They're in Yongsun's office late at night. Under normal circumstances, Yongsun makes sure to take all her patients' midday, during clinic hours and to leave the research and paperwork for the night shift, but thanks to one newbie nurse, her schedule was royally screwed. 

"Of course there's a method," Yongsun says. Her tone is calm and even, her eyes are half-lidded, "But, and I'm so sorry to say this, but malignant brain tumors—in your son’s case a _metastatic brain tumor_ —they're impossible to remove without aggressive surgery. And I wouldn't recommend that at this juncture." 

"Oh," the woman says from across Yongsun's desk. Her eyebrows furrow together and her mouth sets in a hateful frown, and Yongsun knows exactly what comes next. 

"So what exactly would you suggest would you suggest _at this juncture_ , doctor?" Her voice is shrill and her eyes are narrowed, and Yongsun has to lean back in her seat to avoid the loud tone. 

"First we'll do a biopsy to remove a sample of the tissue," Yongsun recites, knowing the procedure inside and out but knowing still, whether her son makes it or not, the next few years of his lives would be pure hell, "Afterwards we'll send the samples to a pathologist to check the cancer cells to find out the type and grade of the—" 

The woman stands abruptly, pushing her chair back so hard it topples backwards. 

"This is a life," she announces tearfully, standing in front of Yongsun's desk and glaring down at her, "It's my son's life. Please just tell me how you're going to fix it." 

Yongsun levels her with a calm, even stare and stands as well, tucking some hair swiftly behind her ear. 

"There are no easy fixes, Mrs. Gwan," Yongsun says with a practiced look of sympathy, used to explaining things like this as well, "There may not be any fixes at all, the best we can hope for—" 

"You don't even care!" Mrs. Gwan screeches, pointing a finger accusingly in Yongsun's face, and she doesn’t even flinch. "This is my son, and you don't even care what happens to him. What the hell is wrong with you?" 

Yongsun blinks twice, and stares blankly at the woman. Something rattles hollowly in her chest. 

"I don't know." 

. 

Yongsun first meets Byul when she moves back to Korea after her two years of internship at the University of Michigan Hospital. 

Her time spent there was a horrific experience filled to the brim with severe cases of chronic STDs and young ladies who had assumed cancer was just a myth— _like global warming, right?_ —so Yongsun had opted to go home and continue her career somewhere where the patients were a tad more polite and a tad more hygienic. 

The only light in that almost totally dark time was her friend Eric, a fellow Korean med student who spoke way better english and had insisted from day one that she use his western name instead. Who sometimes helped her at rounds when she was feeling especially lazy and was always good for an eyeroll anytime a twitchy sixteen-year-old wandered in hoping to score some meds. 

"We need to get out of here," she moaned once when they were on-call late together, leaning against one of the musky floral sofas in the lounge, a package of peanut M&Ms between them. "Someone came in today and asked me to shove my finger up his ass, and when I told him I wasn't a proctologist, he asked if I could do it anyways.” 

Eric roared with laugher, going as far as to slap his knees and Yongsun glared, unamused. 

"Seriously," she deadpanned, popping an M&M in her mouth and chewing slowly. "This place sucks. I miss Korea." 

"This place sucks." Eric agreed, still grinning, but like with everything else, he wasn't too bothered by it. He reached for an M&M at the same time as Yongsun, and their fingers brushed. "Well," he amended, "Not everything about it sucks," he smiled a genuine smile, and Yongsun rolled her eyes, scooting away. 

"After our internship is over," she announced, "We're doing our residency back in Korea. Agreed?" 

She wasn't big on pacts, but Eric was cool and she didn't want to end up working at a hospital back home where everyone knew everyone except her. 

He smiled and nodded easily, fishing the last two pieces of chocolate from the bag and handing her the red one. 

"Agreed." 

So the next year they applied and transferred to the Wooridul Hospital in Seoul. It was one of the better facilities in the country, and Yongsun had to admit, it felt good to communicate with patients in her mother tongue again. 

It was her fourth day there, and she had just met the whirlwind that was Jung Wheein, so her head was still reeling. She walked into the cafeteria around noon to meet Eric for lunch as usual, so imagine her surprise when their usual table was packed with people she had only ever passed in the hall and wasn’t quite ready to get to know on a personal level. 

"Yongsun!" Eric called from across the room when he saw her, and waved her over. Too bad too, because she was planning on sneaking away before he noticed and taking her lunch later, but now everyone was looking at _right at her_ and…ugh. 

"Hello." She said timidly, sitting down in the available seat next to Eric. There was a very handsome-looking woman in the chair across from her and she raised both her eyebrows at Yongsun’s shy expression, giving her a half smile. 

"Hey," the handsome woman said back easily, even though she hadn't been talking to her. She loosed her hair from it’s sleek ponytail, unsettling it and Yongsun found herself staring.

"So," Eric said, turning to her, obviously enthused. Yongsun had to physically tear her eyes away from the woman so she could properly acknowledge Eric. 

"Everyone, this is Yongsun. Yongsun, this is Nurse Hyejin," 

"Hi, Unnie," offered a stunning brunette on the far right. Yongsun managed a small wave and Nurse Hyejin smiled, tilting her head so her lengthy hair spilled over her shoulder. Yongsun ran a hand through her own hair, frowning when it snagged. She worked the hair loose as Eric continued.

"You already know Wheein from pediatrics," 

"Hi!" 

"Sandeul, he's over in pathology," he nodded toward a pale man with a floppy head of hair and an even friendlier smile, "And that's Dr. Moon.” He finally gestured to the woman across from her, and Yongsun was startled to find she had been staring at her the whole time. 

"Dr. Moon has been showing me around the radiology department." Eric explained, and then leaned over the table for a fist bump. 

"Byul," Dr. Moon corrected quietly that day, for the first time ever. She withdrew her fist from Eric's but kept her hand on the table, close enough so that if Yongsun twitched, their pinkies would be touching. "You can call me Byul." 

But Yongsun knew, even then, just by looking at the other woman’s bright eyes and tousled hair and half-smile tucked into the corner of her cheek, that she wouldn't. 

. 

When you're working at a hospital, a day can feel like a month. 

Yongsun considers this as she walks out the double doors and into the parking lot. Her shift isn't over yet, she still has a good hour-and-a-half left, but while she supposes she has more time, she is truly out of sanity, so she decides to opt out early. 

She walks out to the curb, stands along the sidewalk and looks out to all the cars parked along the lot. It's the middle of the night, nearly two am, but diseases don’t do nine-to-five, and people just kept coming in by the dozens, faces ashen, hands clasped together, expecting to be saved. 

Yongsun should care more, really she should, but there are only so many accusations and questionable MRI scans and renal cell carcinomas you didn't catch in time that a person can take before you really start to wish you'd chosen to become a famous singer instead. 

She sighs out a ragged breath, annoyed, and runs her fingers smoothly through her hair. Savoring the feel of her fingers running undisturbed through her long, black hair. The curb beneath her feet is slick from the rain they'd had earlier, shiny and glittery from the streetlights way above. She knows the concrete is probably pretty unsanitary, but she sinks to the ground anyways, keeping her legs pressed together and pulling them up to her chest as the wetness below sinks in through the layers of her clothing. 

She sits there for maybe a full ten minutes before she hears a familiar set of footsteps padding towards her. 

"Every day," Yong murmurs without preamble when she knows the other woman is close enough to hear, "I have to tell people that there's something in their own bodies trying to kill them. And then they look up at me with these pleading eyes, like I can just reach in there, pull it out and send them home with a full bill of health." 

She looks up, her eyes are slightly hazy from exhaustion and the streetlight behind Byul traces a beautiful, blurry halo around her head like a celestial crown, lighting her up. _Like starlight_ , Yong thinks. 

"And you know what's weird?" She asks as Byul settles down beside her on the curb, the dampness of the sidewalk seems to be seeping into her very bones and she struggles not to shiver visibly. When Byul exhales harshly through her mouth, Yong can see the puff of her breath curling into the cool night air. 

"What's that?" 

"I don't think...I care anymore," she admits in a hollow voice, "It used to bother me, it did. But last week a woman called me a Grim Reaper and I had to hold back a smirk. God, what is wrong with me?" 

"I mean," she continued, not allowing Byul to speak, even though she notices the younger woman’s open mouth and furrowed eyebrows. Now that she's finally started talking about it, it was like the floodgates had come open, and she couldn't stop. "I tell Wheein all the time not to get too attached and too involved and to stop crying when someone dies, but _God_ , that’s got to be preferable to totally feeling nothing, right?" 

"Well," Byul starts, but she interrupts her. 

"I am," Yong mutters softly, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands, worn and tired and a hundred years old somehow, "A terrible human being." 

And she doesn't just mean being apathetic towards dying patients either. Yong, on some obscure unacknowledged level, at the point of herself she keeps locked up so tight even she isn't aware of it, Yong realizes the way she is and what she's done—and hates herself for it. She wonders if Byul knows that. 

Byul stays quiet. She leans towards Yong slightly so that their shoulders brush together and despite everything, Yong takes comfort in the gesture. 

"You're not a bad person," Byul murmurs, tucking her nose into her hair. Yong doesn't know if she's imagining it, but she swears she feels the younger woman inhale a little. "You're not.” Byul insists, and it sounds to Yong like she really means it. 

She swallows hard, nervous for some reason and leans into her touch, curling their fingers together. 

It has been _three and a half years_ —three and a half years of this—this soft, slow bantering back and forth, smiling lips and waiting up for her when she's pulling fourteen-hour shifts. Three and a half years of PET scans and secret smiley faces scribbled onto clipboard corners and late-night rendezvous in the on-call room and _Byul and Yong_ and feeling something so distinctly deep and penetrating for each other, but having to keep it hush-hush and hidden and— 

"Hey," Eric calls, walking over to them. He has a soft grin on his face, and Yongsun wills her entire body not to stiffen. Furtively, she slides a little away from Byul until there is only a friendly distance between them. "Did you finish up early?" Eric asks, oblivious. 

"Yeah," Yongsun says, offering him a small smile and standing. She ignores the way she can hear Byul grinding her teeth from below. 

"Awesome, that means we can go home together." He grins at Byul, puts an arm around Yongsun's shoulder, "That literally almost never happens." Eric tells her, and Byul smiles back, although it's strained. 

"Oh, I know," Byul answers confidently, standing as well. It sounds to Yongsun's ears much more like an insinuation than an innocent comment. Eric doesn't notice though. He just nods solemnly and pulls Yongsun a little closer. 

"She works too hard, you know" Eric keeps talking, as if Byul doesn't already know, and when Byul's face hardens, Yongsun decides it would probably be prudent for them to get the hell out of there. 

"We should go," she tells Eric quickly, avoiding eye contact with Byul, even though she can feel the younger woman looking right at her, "I'm tired." 

"Yeah," Eric agrees, rubbing his hand fondly up and down Yongsun's arm to warm her up. "Do me a favor though, since you guys are best friends and all." He says, speaking to Byul but smiling down at Yongsun, "Help me convince her to start trying for a baby, would you? I know she likes our life now, but it’d be nice to have kids, you know?" 

Yongsun is positively mortified, she bites down hard on the inside of her cheek and grabs Eric's hand, trying to tug him away. When she sneaks a glance at Byul though, she sees that her face is perfectly blank. Byul smiles at Eric and then turns slowly toward Yongsun. 

"Sure," she says with a shrug, but unlike the usual easygoing gesture Yongsun so loves, this one is rigid and subtly irate, a quick up-down motion that looks more like a dangerous twitch than anything else. "Anything you want." Byul stares right at Yongsun and she swallows hard, pulling Eric away. 

"Later!" Eric calls behind him as Yongsun tugs him into the parking lot. She feels like water is rushing to her ears, and she has to force herself not to look back to where Byul is still standing.

"She seems weird today, right?" Eric asks once they're out of earshot. 

"Whatever," Yongsun responds, trying for indifference, but Eric is more than used to this type of behavior so he takes it all in stride. She can feel his hand still in hers, and when he squeezes she only has three and a half seconds to realize it before he does— 

"Where's your ring?" He asks, eyebrows furrowed. Yongsun tears her hand away from his, digging in her coat pocket. 

"Took it off earlier, it gets in the way sometimes." She answers quickly. 

She doesn't have an explanation beyond that, she is usually so much more careful. She slides the ring back into place, right on the knuckle of the fourth finger of her left hand. The hand that people spend so much of their lives worrying over. The finger that talks. 

"I don't like it when you do that," Eric tells her, a hurt edge to his usually composed voice and Yongsun swallows thickly, thinking how Byul hates it when she keeps it on. 

"I know, sorry." She runs a hand through her hair, trying to calm herself and momentarily the ring gets caught, snagging in her hair. She sighs angrily, tearing it out anyways, losing a few curled strands in the process. 

Eric turns to face her. He grips Yongsun just above the shoulders and she has to fight the urge to fidget under his strong hands. 

"Yongsun," he says seriously, looking right at her. His eyes are big and earnest, his face is full and honest, but his nose doesn’t wrinkle when he smiles and his eyes aren’t as bright and he never waits up for her at lunch. 

"Please stop taking your ring off." He requests evenly and Yongsun stares up at him for a second, swallowing hard. The ring feels very heavy on her finger, and she has to clench and unclench her hand a couple of times to get the feeling back in it. 

"Okay," she says quietly, and he grins at her slowly, wide and lovely with a straight row of teeth, believing her. 

"Thank you," he murmurs. He pulls her a little closer and presses his lips to her temple, lingering there. And Yongsun closes her eyes tight, has to physically restrain herself from wishing it was a different pair of lips, a different embrace, the same request from a totally different person. 

She thought she wanted it, back then. Wanted him. But here she was, stuck in another failed attempt at regaining her father’s favor and now she wishes she’d never tried to win it back at all.

It isn't right. It isn't fair to any of them, but she knows Byul and she knows Eric, and she really, really knows herself, and so she knows that nothing will ever really change. 

She will never really change. 

Kim Yongsun wishes she was a better person.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no, Eclipse promotions are over :( Kind of sad that Byul didn't get a win, so here, have an equally sad moonsun one-shot. 
> 
> I'm not much a fan of making Eric Nam out to be some kind of jerk or villain so I wanted to stay true to him being an actually genuine and nice person, which he is. Also, yes I realize that real life Yongsun's parents became supportive of her choices later on in life, but in this AU, they're not. Sorry if this upsets you. It upset me too. :(
> 
> It case it got confusing, whenever Yong ran her hand through her hair and it snagged, it's cause she was wearing her ring. When she ran it through and it went smoothly, it's cause she had taken it off.


End file.
